


(Burns - Pain meds) + Stims

by TetrodotoxinB



Series: Whumptober 2020 [14]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Author is actually autistic, Autistic!Mac, Burns, Coda, Day 14, Episode: s02e14 Mardi Gras Beads + Chair, James MacGyver's A+ parenting, Prescribed use of pain meds, Stimming, Whumptober 2020, don't at me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27006538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: The aftermath of Mac getting his hands burnt in New Orleans.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947493
Comments: 29
Kudos: 87
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	(Burns - Pain meds) + Stims

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [aravenwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aravenwood/pseuds/aravenwood) for her extreme kindness in being willing to beta all of these whumptober fills! Especially so since she's also writing her own (amazing!) fics too! Please go check her out and give her some love!!!

It’s been two days since Mac burnt his hands to save Jack. The first day Mac was so hopped up on painkillers that he didn’t seem to mind the lack of dexterity other than the fact that he can’t do anything for himself including wipe his own ass or bathe. But on day two, Mac is already trying to lower his pain meds, though the doctors told him not to.

“I can’t think like this,” he complains to Jack.

“Hoss, what are you thinking about? Playing piano? You got nothing to think about because you’re on medical leave. All you gotta do is lay on the sofa and zone out to the tune of morphine until your hands are healed,” Jack points out.

Needless to say, Jack loses that round when it turns out that Mac isn’t going to take the meds short of Jack forcing them down Mac’s throat like he’s giving a puppy dewormer pills. Or unless he drugs Mac’s food which seems like it’s probably not the most ethical plan he’s ever had.

“Fine, but I don’t wanna hear any whining when everything hurts. It’s harder to get the pain under control later if you don’t stay on top of it, but they’re your hands,” Jack says in frustration.

*****

Four hours later, Mac’s isn’t complaining but he’s definitely struggling. Jack kinda figured this would happen sooner or later, but he was hoping that the pain meds might dull the worst of it, for a while anyway. Instead, Mac’s gone ahead and decreased his dose like an idiot and now he’s buzzing around like a housefly. 

Jack sits at the counter in the kitchen, watching Mac pace the living room while popping his lips like a preschooler that’s just discovered the magic of popping his “p’s.” Periodically, Mac stops,   
and bounces several times on the balls of his feet before continuing his lap around the living room. It’s an odd little combination of behaviors, but then Mac’s always been fidgety — folding paper clips, twisting up gum wrappers, making little lines of pebbles in the dust when they were stuck waiting places in Afghanistan. Always something to keep his hands busy. Jack isn’t surprised when that nervous energy comes out in unexpected ways now that Mac’s hands look like they came off a B-movie mummy.

The day passes slowly. Jack enjoys it for the break that it is, and though Mac’s still bouncing around the house like a kangaroo on speed, his idiosyncrasies are barely a blip on the radar of Jack’s relaxation given all the years he’s spent in active war zones. 

It’s easy enough to snag a brief nap after a light lunch, Mac isn’t going anywhere. But when he wakes Mac has gone somewhere, though if the humming he hears is Mac and not that lunatic come to visit, it’s not too far. Jack limps his old bones down the hall and finds Mac folding laundry of all things. Well, trying to fold laundry. He’s clicking his tongue and rocking on his toes and trying to fold underwear with the back of his gauze-encased hands.

“How’s that working out for you?” Jack asks, leaning against the doorframe.

Mac jumps and messes up his folding. “Badly,” he admits.

Jack hums a little noise of agreement. “Want some help?”

Mac shakes his head. “Doesn’t really matter. I’m just trying to kill time.”

“You’re a little spazzed out not being able to use your hands, huh?” It might not be the most delicate way to put it, but Mac won’t read too much into it. Hopefully.

Mac shrugs. “Yeah. Usually I can burn off my energy with my hands but there’s nothing I can do. I can’t be useful.”

Now that’s an odd statement if Jack’s ever heard one. “Why do you need to be useful all the time?”

There’s that shrug again and Jack frowns. “It’s better than walking around making noises all day and annoying people,” Mac explains.

Jack can practically hear the words come out of James’ mouth and he wants to strangle the sonofabitch. “Right now, the useful thing you’re doing is healing and multitasking just means you’re doing both tasks poorly. So come on. We’re gonna watch some brain-rotting TV and eat popcorn. No arguments.”

Mac just holds up his hands as if to stay “how am I supposed to eat popcorn?”

“I’ll get you a feedbag. Now come on,” Jack insists.

Mac makes a face of disapproval but follows Jack all the same. They watch Die Hard and Mac makes it through the whole movie before he has to go for a walk around the yard, flapping his hands as he goes. Jack knows that’s gotta hurt, but if it does, Mac seems not to notice or care. Eventually, he comes back in and settles, ready for the next installment in the series. 

“Were you like this as a kid?” Jack asks. He knows damn well that “this” really means “autistic” but he’s not gonna use the word unless Mac brings it up. While it’s not a dirty word, that doesn’t mean James didn’t make it one in their home.

“Yeah,” Mac admits, his voice whisper soft. 

“He didn’t like that, did he?” Jack doesn’t feel the need to specify who he’s talking about.

Mac shakes his head. He’s gone still which is such a strong contrast to how he’s been all day. “Not really.”

Mac’s usual style — dumping all related info at once — seems to have vanished, and Jack doesn’t need to ask why. Clearly, there were consequences for anything deemed unnecessary or annoying. Jack hates himself for all the time he spent trying to convince Mac to look for and reconcile with James. He should have asked about it, should have known there was a reason Mac had such an unhealthy relationship with the entire endeavour. 

“Well, I don’t mind one bit. As long as it helps with all the buzzing under your skin, you just do whatever you got to. Besides, you know me, I’ll sleep through anything,” Jack says.

Mac doesn’t respond but Jack doesn’t expect him to. The only confirmation he needs that Mac has heard him is the way Mac crosses his legs on the sofa and rocks while they watch, his hands cradled in his lap. 

Higher education and all that fancy neuro-brain-ology stuff isn’t exactly Jack’s specialty, but he knows damn well that Mac’s brain, autism and all, are why Mac is as exceptional as he is. Mac might not know how to love that about himself but Jack’ll just have to love him enough for the both of them.


End file.
